Every Trick in the Book
by rhead-a-holyc
Summary: Collection for Badass Lyrics Inspire Badass Fics Challenge on HPFC ie Every Trick in the Book album by Ice Nine Kills
1. The Nature of the Beast

Slytherin was the house of witches and wizards who yearned for something.

That wasn't the impression the rest of the wizarding world had for the house of green and silver, but it was the reality Severus had grown into from his first night at Hogwarts.

It wasn't always easy to tell what each student yearned for – everything was covered in Pureblood teachings and traditions and expectations – but it was easiest to spot on the younger ones. He saw the yearning to be acknowledged from Bellatrix, and the desire to be liked from Narcissa; he saw the need to be superior from Lucius and Rabastan's desire to be named heir despite being the second son.

It had made Severus wonder what his weakness was, but he knew better than to expose himself in that manner within a den of snakes. He had always been good at observing others – living with his father had taught him that skill – but he had never needed introspection. His desire had always been to survive – to escape, with his mother if he could.

He knew that he didn't want to see despair in his mother's every expression; he knew he didn't want to have to hide his magical belongings when he went home. He knew he had always wanted to leave; he knew that he liked running away – like he had done every day during the summer at the Evans' home.

But at Hogwarts, there was no danger. He was safe, and while there was nothing he could do for his mother, but Hogwarts was a start. It meant that he was closer to leaving when he was seventeen – that he could take his mother with him, if she was willing to leave.

Because Severus knew, despite everything, his mother still loved the man that was his father. He didn't understand how, or why, or he knew that she would have left years ago.

"What's on your mind, Sev?" Lily asked.

It was one of the few moments they were able to spend together in a quiet corner of Hogwarts where they were just Severus and Lily, not a Slytherin and a Gryffindor.

Severus glanced at her, realising that if there was anyone that could give him an answer to his question, it would probably be her.

"What… if there was one thing I would want, what do you think it would be?" Severus asked, the question coming slowly. He wasn't sure Lily would understand what he was asking, but he hoped she would. He didn't know if he would be able to explain his question. He knew he would brush it off and never mention it again.

Severus could feel Lily's heavy gaze on the side of his face. He resolutely ignored it, not willing to give in to that awkward feeling that told him the question was a mistake.

"I think you want to be a hero," Lily said. "I think you want to save the people you care about. You really shouldn't listen to what everyone says about Slytherin, Sev."

Severus let out a huff. All he had ever done was run away. There was nothing heroic about that.

…xXx…

Running away sometimes meant blending in.

Slytherin was a house that helped you adapt to the unfairness of the real world, because none of the other houses allied themselves with the snakes. It was where those that hadn't learned how to fend for themselves, were forced to adapt quickly. Hierarchies were quickly identified, and alliances were formed, and Severus had been fortunate to be one of the last of the Prince line, despite being a half-blood.

The protection of his mother's lineage was something he was glad for, and he hadn't been willing to relinquish it. He had hoped Lily would understand his need for safety – for Hogwarts to be the safe place he had never known in his home.

She hadn't understood. Lily had been understandably hurt by his words and had avoided any chance of the two of them talking. Catching her off-guard had become impossible when she didn't try to avoid her many friends, and Severus could only watch from a distance as they grew apart.

Because he had wanted protection, and she wanted heroism.

There were several things he knew he could have done differently, but Severus knew that he didn't regret his actions. He wasn't sure if he would have survived magical hell.

But Lily still avoided him, and Severus had never pushed her. That was another thing being a Slytherin taught: to never stick around when you weren't wanted.

"You always did like the dungeons, Sev."

Severus froze. Years without interaction would never allow him to forget her voice.

"Lily?"

"Dumbledore allowed me to visit. James and I are going into hiding soon, and I thought that I should make amends while I still could." Lily's eyes were tired but happy, and Severus didn't think he could wish any better for her. She had found what she wanted, and she hadn't needed him by her side to do it.

"Don't say that. You'll survive the war." Severus's voice shook. He had been the one to warn Dumbledore, and Lily surely knew that she would be a target.

Lily smiled sadly. "It's still time I've apologised for my behaviour all these years. Without you, James and I would never have the warning we do now. Neither would Alice and Frank, and we only have you to thank. I've treated my best friend like an enemy because I had my feelings hurt by words I realised afterwards you didn't mean. I'm sorry, Sev."

It hurt that she'd thought so little of him, even after all these years, but Severus still couldn't help but be glad he had a friend back.

He said as much, and Lily rolled her eyes with a huff.

"You make it sound like you didn't make a _single_ friend in all your years at Hogwarts."

Severus bit his tongue on the argument that he didn't trust a single one of the 'friends' he had made.

That he didn't even feel like he could fully trust _her_ anymore.

Instead, he told her about his first group of idiot students who blew through five cauldrons in less than an hour.

…xXx…

Years later, staring into Lily's green eyes on her son's face as he felt the biting cold settle into his body, he thought that maybe Lily had been right.

That maybe behind all that running away, all that fear and self-preservation, was just to be alive at the right time to save someone else. Unknowingly and unwittingly perhaps, but searching for a moment of glory he could call his own.

That perhaps he had known all along that he had wanted to save people, but he didn't want the attention that came with it.

That being a hero could also mean staying in the shadows.

And running away could also be brave.

* * *

**Written for Badass Lyrics Inspire Badass Fics [The Nature of the Beast: Despite intent a noble heart still bleeds; Severus Snape]**


	2. Communion of the Cursed

There were very few times that anyone could say they were in a completely hopeless situation, one where the choice was death or something worse. Whether it was the weight of wanting to protect his family, or the knowledge of Harry's fate, James could feel it pressing down on him – just like Voldemort's mocking gaze.

James couldn't tell whether it was his terrible luck or fate but facing Lord Voldemort and knowing that he had everything to lose was a situation James always wished to never find himself in again – and this time James knew his wish would be answered. There wasn't much else to expect when the current Dark Lord strides into your home – one that you had guarded specifically against him.

There wasn't time to place blame, to regret misplaced trust, or wish things were different. There was only the current moment – trying to make it last as long as possible.

To give Lily as much time as his life was worth.

There was little he could do with a wand in his home, and even less that he could do without one.

Reaching his wand, carelessly tucked into the couch, would give Voldemort a precious few seconds where he was both unarmed and distracted. James could only hope Voldemort's spells led him closer to the couch, and he prayed his Auror reflexes would keep him alive for long enough to reach his wand.

James knew he was a careless person; maneuvering through spell fire in a specific direction had always been Sirius' forte. It was the one area that nearly had him flunking out of Auror training, even after Sirius' multiple frustrated attempts at teaching him.

It was nearly as difficult as this situation.

It would only be made worse by the pressure of perfection.

By the pressure of knowing there was no one that had his back this time – no one who could cover him if he messed up.

There had never been much that hadn't come to him easily. He had always had his parents' support – which was more than Sirius had ever had, likely more than even Remus had – and he always had the support of his closest friends as a result.

He'd had to work for Remus to join their group, and for Sirius to accept the fact that he wasn't in Slytherin with the rest of his family; he'd had to work for Lily too. He'd had to pour blood, sweat and tears into Auror training to earn the crimson robes.

All of that had been worth it.

While the entire wizarding world was too vast, too unimaginable, to be much motivation, just standing what little ground he had now would mean that Lily and Harry would live for that much longer. If it meant that there was the possibility of the Order arriving on time – of saving what made his life worth living – it was motivation enough for him.

Even if that meant he wouldn't survive.

Even if that meant that Lily would have to eventually move on.

If that meant that Harry would only know him from Hogwarts tales, but would at least be alive to hear them.

And hopefully, Lily would be alive to tell them.

* * *

**Written for Badass Lyrics Inspire Badass Fics [Get on your knees and prove your worth; James Potter]**


	3. Bloodbath & Beyond

Azkaban was everything it was described to be – dark and filled with wandering dementors.

The beds were solid, and screams broke the silence at all hours – not that there was too much of a difference between day and night. The sound of voices that didn't jabber incomprehensibly and an occasional respite of the presence of dementors were the only signs that the sun was would be high in the sky.

The Death Eaters that had managed to remain free knew better than to visit them – and any friends they had were Slytherin enough to know that they would be doubted by association. It wasn't difficult to be without their company. Most were simply acquaintances because of their usefulness – both for the Dark Lord's cause and within the Ministry – and the rest were trapped within Azkaban with him.

It was only Rodolphus, trapped in the cell next to him so they could hear each other but never see each other, that Rabastan could say he really _missed_. He didn't know if not being to hear his brother's voice was better than this, but there were many times he was grateful for his brother's sanity. Bellatrix was imprisoned in an area with higher security and more dementors.

Rodolphus was the one who kept him sane – reminding him that they were safer in Azkaban than out of it. That it was better to bide their time and plan for when the Dark Lord returned – because a child could never defeat the Dark Lord.

Rabastan couldn't help but believe him.

After Azkaban, that would be exactly what they deserved. This was simply them paying their dues for the future they wanted to see – a future the Dark Lord lead and blood purity ruled. The Mudbloods and their blood traitor ilk would no longer be able to spread their blasphemy within their society.

Rabastan spent the nights planning with his brother – all the changes that would need to be made to the current wizarding world and its Ministry; how they would deal with the Mudbloods and blood traitors and Dumbledore and his Order.

There would be no grace for the Order, they decided. Dumbledore's people may be a bunch of Gryffindors, but they were willing to give their lives for him – they were likely to attempt to continue fighting even after the Dark Lord won. The future the wizarding world deserved would not be possible with Dumbledore. They were sure the Dark Lord would agree with them on this.

Dumbledore and the current Ministry could have their short years of peace. They could indulge in their fantasy of being righteous and good while destroying everything around them.

The Dark Lord would return and would get them out of Azkaban.

Until then, Azkaban would be their haven. It would be their base of operations.

They were ironically protected here, despite the dementors. The guards occasionally tried to rile them up, but even they didn't want to be near the dementors, and the guards' taunts were childish – probably the same ones they had used at Hogwarts.

They rose above the taunts just like they would rise against Dumbledore and his minions.

These few years would be a shadow in their memories once they won.

* * *

**Written for Badass Lyrics Inspire Badass Fics [Don't think of this as damnation 'cause we don't need their salvation; Rabastan Lestrange]**


	4. The Plot Sickens

She cringed when she came across them – once upon a time, years ago.

Her wand would be in her hand as she glared at them in distrust, expecting them to be as inhumane as she had always heard – as horrifying as Fenrir Greyback was – believing everything her parents had told her about them. The werewolves were all supposed to be angry at the world, at wizardkind, and taking every opportunity to kill and torture.

Lavender had believed that.

She had believed everything she had been told about werewolves – until she learned Professor Lupin was one. That changed things, because Professor Lupin had never been violent just constantly tired and _kind_ and Lavender thought that just _maybe_ she had been wrong.

But she put it out of her mind. There was no need to think so hard about insignificant things. Her daily life wouldn't be affected by whether she thought of werewolves as kind or as monsters. Professor Lupin had already left, after all.

Living in that ignorant bliss was beautiful, until reality crashed in.

And regret threatened to suffocate her.

Regret for treating the werewolves as terribly as she had – for misjudging and distrusting them; and regret for not abandoning the Battle of Hogwarts. She had been brave, then; she had been a Gryffindor then, brash and foolish without considering the consequences. Lavender had only wanted to be part of the heroics, to have her name down as one of the fighters against the dark and evil forces.

Death was the only negative outcome she had considered. It was the only _other_ possibility anyone had considered. They had all been willing to face that possibility as they hid in the Room of Requirement during the year the Death Eaters had taken over the Ministry. It was what they faced every day; that year had made them numb to the fear of death.

Nothing could have prepared her to be knocked unconscious and wake up as a werewolf.

It was because she fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, and was known as a result, that her werewolf status was known. Lavender was sure she could have kept it quiet otherwise. She was certain that she would not have to face the same distrustful glances and parents warily pulling their children away from her.

If she hadn't wanted that small amount of glory, perhaps she wouldn't even be a werewolf. She could have continued with her careless life of boys and shopping without having to control her temper lest someone claim her to be another violent werewolf – the stereotype still existed despite Fenrir Greyback having been dead for years and the Ministry's attempts to openly reintroduce known werewolves into the wizarding world.

Even if her reputation didn't give her away, her scars did. It wasn't possible to cover them up all the time, and eventually Lavender found herself tired of covering them up at all, at being self-conscious and careful all the time.

She was still a Gryffindor, after all.

If people were going to avoid her for something she wasn't able to control, for something that may have saved their lives, then they simply weren't worth her time. Lavender had fought and killed and nearly died, and somewhere, somehow, she realized that had never been _all_ about gaining everyone's approval.

It had also been about proving to herself that the year of suffering had been worth it.

* * *

**Written for Badass Lyrics Inspire Badass Fics [We cry out for those who can't be saved, one foot on sacred ground and one foot in the grave; Lavender Brown]**


	5. Star-Crossed Enemies

The sun rose and the sun set.

The celestial body didn't care about any one person; it didn't care whether wishes were murdered, and hopes had been shattered. There was only the forever continuing march through the skies, the everlasting present that didn't matter and easily became the past.

Somehow, it was never the same for humans.

For humans, people mattered; _things_ mattered.

And then suddenly they didn't.

The understanding had struck Draco suddenly, thunderously, and he laughed at the reality of it – ignoring the strange and weary looks he received as a result. They were already wary around him and judged his every action.

Draco took a moment to wonder how it took him this long to realise that was the same for everyone. Was there a single person that didn't watch his every action and judge it? There wasn't a single person Draco could think of – not his parents, not his friends – who didn't have an expectation of his actions and what he aspired to be. The weight of the expectation on his shoulders didn't matter as long as it met whatever end they had dreamed up.

Action was not as easy as the realization.

Because humans were creatures of fear and comfort, and Draco wasn't sure of losing what little he had managed to keep since the war. He was certain he would have nothing left if he lost the few Slytherin friends that had managed to stay out of Azkaban.

But they were just as afraid. They lived in as much fear as he did. The Ministry could come knocking at any moment with another accusation to take everything they had, not because it was right or the Ministry had found proof, but purely for vindictiveness. It was the upper hand the other houses had always had at Hogwarts, but without the protection of Hogwarts.

It was never going to get better.

There was going to be no hero that would fight for their justice, because no one saw the need for one. No one needed a hero for someone else, only themselves.

And Draco was tired of waiting for one.

Because Draco was going to live however he wanted.

He was going to be judged either way, and he risked losing his friends – but they were a shadow of their former selves, and it probably wasn't much of a loss either. If anything, they might try take a similar step off the fear train and into a future that was closer to what they originally wanted.

Draco was going to start with his fascination of muggle transportation and vehicles. The Ministry used them occasionally to blend in, and it hadn't taken Draco long to realise that they _didn't_ need magic to move. The steering looked more complicated, but also interesting and Draco knew that he'd wanted to try it – to learn how – some day.

And why couldn't that day be today?

If there were so many muggles that could operate them, surely it wouldn't be too difficult to find someone to teach him?

Draco would master them all.

* * *

**Written for Badass Lyrics Inspire Badass Fics [To hell with waiting for tomorrow; Draco Malfoy]**


	6. Me, Myself & Hyde

_It's already done_.

The voice whispered through his mind, creeping through his wandering thoughts.

_There's no changing the past._

Ariana was already dead, and Gellert knew that the brothers were probably already making funeral arrangements. He could only imagine the tension that had been left in his wake.

There would never again be a 'Albus and him against the world'.

Because he knew Albus.

And Albus' family had always been too far.

It had never mattered when it was other people dying – hundreds of blurry faces in their plans, people they didn't know and would never care about. The revolution was supposed to have numbed them to death enough when the time came for Albus' family to be harmed – and Albus had always had plans for revenge in those cases.

Gellert and Albus had considered how they would protect Aberforth and Ariana. They had planned how to convince the two to stay out of the war – to not choose a side, and to be kept well away from all of it. Aberforth would follow and protect Ariana, and Ariana would be seeking the help she needed to get better. Everything would have worked out with few snags.

They had never considered the first casualty could be Albus' sister.

They had never considered that _they_ might be the ones to kill her.

It would be fine if it were anyone else, but without a doubt, it was one of the three of them. Who exactly didn't matter; the hope that it was someone other than themselves was enough but the confirmation would be too much to bear.

And yet, the majority of their plans were Albus's idea. Gellert wasn't sure he could follow through with all of them without the other wizard. He wasn't sure he could finish the rest of their plans without him.

The revolution they had imagined for the wizarding world always had the two of them in it, and Gellert still desperately wanted it to be so.

That was the only reason he was there, hiding in a bush near the edge of the Dumbledore property. The raised voices of Albus and Aberforth were expected, as was their topic of conversation – him.

Aberforth had decided that it was his fault; that he had planned Ariana's death from the very beginning so that Albus would leave with him. Albus was certain that there was no way to truly know who had cast the curse, that Aberforth was trying to ease his own guilt at his involvement.

It was the one thing holding him back, stopping him from executing his original plan of convincing Albus to leave with him. It would make it seem like Aberforth was right.

But Gellert also knew the two of them would need something to unite against.

It could be him. He could make himself the enemy; the one for the brothers to unite against. He wanted Albus, but he also cared for the other wizard, and if it would ease Albus's mind, Gellert would consider it.

He didn't know if he was strong enough to face Albus' eternal hatred.

So, with regret, Gellert left without speaking to Albus again.

Gellert was no saint.

He would continue with their plans.

That was the only thing he could still offer Albus.

* * *

**Written for Badass Lyrics Inspire Badass Fics [I'm the devil on your shoulder, but I'll always be your better half; Gellert Grindewald]**


	7. Alice

The Ministry of Magic truly was an _awful_ place to work at.

No one ever knew what they were doing – or what was going on until it had exploded in their faces.

There was nothing appealing about being in a roomful of people who were stressed because someone higher up had messed up and passed the work back down, despite prior warnings. There was nothing nice about running after people to get what you needed; never knowing which of those people would readily stab you in the back to decrease the opposition.

Order had been lost somewhere during the witch hunts, or so Percy was willing to believe with every passing moment. He had spent the last ten minutes being bombarded by messages from the Undersecretary and the Minister for meetings that would occur that very afternoon, while trying to keep the Desert Curse that had been unleashed by an intern in the research department from entering the cups of tea he was to deliver to the Minister's office in a few moments.

He watched a few more messages flutter to his desk as he escaped the area, twelve protection charms and one bubble charm later.

It wasn't the pay that kept him returning day after day, even though it wasn't too bad and more than he imagined a lot of his fellow Hogwarts classmates could hope to earn already. He had learned how to budget and live below his means while growing up.

Perhaps that had been part of the problem: they hadn't really needed to.

His father could have moved departments or taken higher positions. In the two years he had been at the Ministry, he had heard of the number of offers his father had turned down for the muggle trinkets he liked so much.

It was foolishness in Percy's opinion.

The muggle trinkets and toys could be a hobby for his spare time. Enchanting and disenchanting them did nothing to change the chaos that they lived in, nor did it do much to ease the financial burden that had hovered over the Weasley family for as long as Percy knew.

They wouldn't have needed so many hand-me-downs had his father really cared for their family.

They wouldn't have to bear the teasing and mocking he knew his younger brothers still went through because of their threadbare clothing that had been patched one too many times.

But the money wasn't what had attracted Percy to the Ministry.

It was the potential to change things.

There were opportunities no matter where he looked. A carefully placed comment to the right person meant that they would mull it over then present the idea as their own to the next person until the message was passed to the right person. A whispered conversation in an elevator with the right person in it, would mean a faster response.

It was tricky and required skills that Percy hadn't originally developed through his years in Gryffindor. It was a rather Slytherin ability, and Percy had learned to admire the Slytherins who seemed to perfect the art while in Hogwarts itself.

Percy was attracted to the latent power that clung to the brimming walls and chambers of the Ministry of Magic but wasn't entirely able to defend himself from the same machinations.

If he found the right moment, he could have the research department only able to look at spells without a counter after hours, when it wouldn't affect him.

If he found the right ear, he could talk himself into a rise in position and importance within the Ministry. A well-timed show of potential could have the same effect.

Both the wait and the chase were exhilarating.

As was knowing consequences of being too overt.

* * *

**Written for Badass Lyrics Inspire Badass Fics [Tempting fate with the crisis that my vices will orchestrate; Percy Weasley]**


	8. The People in the Attic

Neville had always been proud to be the son of Alice and Frank Longbottom. They were the brave people who defied Lord Voldemort and gave up their minds to protect him as an infant. They had been on the front lines of the war and had given up the heroics to protect him.

Neville knew he would never resent them but being their son, the son of the couple who were the pride of the Longbottom family, had always put a lot of pressure on him to follow in their footsteps: to be brave and courageous and everything that emphasised the Gryffindor their family stood behind.

It meant that his love for plants was never good enough. The fact that he managed the greenhouses with the help of only his own house elf at the age of eight meant that he was nothing like his father, who had been insisting on flying around on his broomstick and visiting friends.

Even worse was his lack of magic.

All that did was make him more of a disappointment.

The hopeful questions from his great aunts and uncles had turned into silent questioning looks by the time he had turned nine. It only made him feel worse when he visited his parents at St. Mungo's, knowing they had sacrificed everything they had for him: a person that wasn't even certain to get into Hogwarts.

Their sacrifice seemed more and more pointless with every day that passed.

And with every desperate attempt from the extended Longbottom family to wrestle magic from his body. It had been unsuccessful for years, with him knowing that they didn't _really_ want to hurt him. The fact that there were always others around, ready to save him if need be, helped but didn't curb the fear that _he really was just a squib_. The embarrassment of the Longbottom family; of Alice and Frank Longbottom.

It was only his plants that snapped and moved around like they would for anyone else. They didn't offer him pity or words of encouragement. Each of them just existed in their own little worlds, caring perhaps only for the next time they would be tended to.

But his time with them grew shorter as he grew older – lessons took up his time, and the various tests that insisted he had magic but had no way of drawing it out. There was dancing and politics and the insistence that he would be the Longbottom Lord one day – he knew it was an empty promise if he never received his Hogwarts letter.

And Neville had tried everything he could think of: he had tried everything the books on accidental magic said could cause him to produce magic, within reason.

He had tried willing plants to grow just a little faster than he knew they would and bringing dying plants back to life, because that was something he really cared about and magic usually helped plants.

He tried daily to summon the can of water to himself in the greenhouse, but it refused to budge.

He had tried unlocking locked doors, because that was said to be simple enough that some _toddlers_ were able to accomplish it with their accidental magic.

He had snuck into the library after his bedtime for extra research and was forced to suffer a cold for the next few weeks as punishment from his grandmother.

His grandmother didn't seem to think that he was trying. That upset her the most, and Neville had often caught her staring wistfully at his parents' portrait. He often believed she wished they had given him up instead of sacrificing themselves, even if they both knew his parents would never have considered such a thing.

Neville wasn't sure if he would have faced this much pressure had he been anyone else's child. He barely knew his parents and wouldn't give them up, but…

There was that very small part of him that sometimes wished that they had just given him up to those Death Eaters.

They could have had another child.

One that had more magic than him and would be less of a disappointment.

That was all the past now. There was nothing he or anyone else could do to change what had already happened.

All Neville could do was continue to hope that his magic would somehow show itself.

* * *

**Written for Badass Lyrics Inspire Badass Fics [We're alive yet deprived and alone; Neville Longbottom]**


	9. Tess-Timony

It was ten years since the war had ended.

The wizarding world had slowly settled into something that resembled peace.

For most people, at least.

The families that had supported the Dark Lord, however, knew none of the peace the rest of the wizarding world lived in. What little they had managed to hold on to, was threatened regularly with laws and threats and whatever someone who had a bone to pick with them could think of.

The Aurors restricted their movements and even the newcomers were warned thoroughly of their 'wickedness'. They had been painted as villains for fighting for what they had believed in.

Somehow, Narcissa was both surprised, and not. History was written by the victor's after all, even if those victors had never fought in the war themselves.

And the true heroes insisted on arguing their forgiveness and acceptance, like the true Gryffindors they were. Their words were drowned out in the voices of the rest, unlike their sacrifices that no one else had been willing to shoulder.

Narcissa could only be grateful for the small mercies, the small battles that had been fought on her behalf, that allowed her family to reunite. It had taken years – Lucius had spent over five years in Azkaban before being released to house arrest with Ronald having vouched for him.

"Mrs Malfoy," the male in question greeted, sounding apologetic despite it being their agreed upon time to meet. Harry Potter followed him out of the floo a moment later, with Hermione Granger quickly following suit. Hermione waved her wand and cleaned up the mess their entrance had caused, and Narcissa smiled gratefully at the woman.

Even their magic usage had been restricted after the war. Underage tracers had once again been placed on each of them, and the Ministry would be informed of any and all of their magic use. They had only barely been able to keep their wands, even with the tracers.

"He's in the study, Mister Weasley," Narcissa said.

Ron flushed. "Just call me Ron, there really isn't a need to be formal."

"Mister Potter, Miss Granger, I would like a word, if you will?" Narcissa asked after a moment's silence. The pair looked startled but agreed easily.

It was rare that she started conversation, but she had been thinking – about the war, about the revolution, about the Dark Lord's original goals before he lost himself to the madness. She understood why they were hated and scorned, but there were few who truly understood what it had been like for _them_.

There were few that weren't followers of the Dark Lord that truly knew the side of the war that hadn't been happily publicised. They didn't know the threats and fear even the Dark Lord's followers felt during the last war.

Narcissa rarely participated in these kinds of things – that was usually Lucius' forte, but her husband was drained mentally and physically, by the loss of the war or Azkaban, Narcissa didn't know. He was only a husk, and Draco was slowly recovering – through forgetting despite the constant reminders – and she didn't have the heart to drag her son back through his nightmares.

Harry and Hermione sat patiently and attentively, waiting to hear whatever she had to say, and Narcissa was grateful that they didn't push her to speak.

"I believe it's time we release the Dark Lord's story. Not immediately labelling as the Dark Lord's," Narcissa added quickly at the pair's expressions. "I'm sure all three of you already know most of the story from whatever Dumbledore found, but there's a lot more than even Dumbledore suspected. My husband's father, Abraxas, attended Hogwarts with the Dark Lord, and like many young heirs of his age, he kept a journal of the goings on at Hogwarts."

"You're saying, there are things in that journal, that may change everyone's minds about the Dark Lord?" Hermione's eyes had the light of curiosity that Narcissa had been hoping for.

Narcissa nodded. "In that journal, are the original plans the Dark Lord made for the wizarding world. Or pieces of them, at least, as one can never truly tell the thoughts of even the ones closest to them, and the Dark Lord never had anyone close to him." Narcissa paused, almost thoughtfully. "However, the other families may have similar journals that could help align the facts from the assumptions."

There were also several things about Dumbledore during his time as Deputy Headmaster that would raise a few eyebrows, and from Harry's expression Narcissa believed he had already guessed at that.

Harry and Hermione barely exchanged a glance, when Ron's slightly muffled voice came from the passage: "I think we should do it. The bloody gits are driving me mental with all the drivel about evil tormentors, like they're doing much better. The Ministry is filled with bunches of them that act like they didn't go into hiding once things got a bit rough."

"Luna would be happy enough to include it in the Quibbler. She has been looking for something a bit more _exciting_." Harry shrugged. "I mean, it wouldn't hurt. Dumbledore wasn't exactly a saint either. He just happened to be on our side, and we just happened to win."

Hermione nodded. "Mrs Malfoy, if we could trouble you to gather as many of the journals as you possibly could? We'll approach Luna for some space in the Quibbler for the foreseeable future. We'll have to be careful with how we write the article and how it's released, or this is going to backfire on all of us."

Narcissa nodded with a wan smile. "I know, but I'm not sure we have very much to lose anymore."

"I can help you, if you'd like. Otherwise we could get Luna to double check the articles afterwards, as a fresh pair of eyes," Hermione offered.

"I may need the assistance of all three of you. I'm afraid, by way of looking at things may give me away in any writing. After all, I know very little of your struggles and sufferings, as you know very little of our sufferings."

They spoke of the arrangement for a little longer, but soon their wards were buzzing with reminders for other commitments, and Narcissa saw them out. As the trio left in a blaze of green floo fire, just as they had arrived, Narcissa could only stare at the embers in thought.

The contents of the journals had shocked even her upon first reading them, but Narcissa had learned that the Dark Lord had been just another victim that turned into a tormentor.

Another bullied boy that turned into the bully to prevent future injury.

She didn't need the wizarding world to understand that – Narcissa truly doubted they ever would – but she needed them to acknowledge the evil that hid even in the light, in the muggles that had been so carefully protected, and in the muggleborns that insisted on changing everything with them.

She would have to take a leaf out of the Dark Lord's book, dead as the man himself was, to slowly drag their families out of the shadows and into public acceptance.

If she took it too far, however, it would bring them right back down to the rock bottom they currently rested on.

* * *

**Written for Badass Lyrics Inspire Badass Fics [She may never beat the system, but she won't rest until she's turned the villain to the victim; Narcissa Black]**


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